Preemptive Strike (Or Why Y'All Gonna Regret Coming Back)
by RinoaDestiny
Summary: Post-KoF XIV. Months after the tournament ends, there are rumors of the return of Orochi's minions and certain other fighters. The Sacred Treasures Team is less than thrilled, which may be the understatement of the century. (Based on fan speculation of certain characters' return based on events in-game). - UPDATED: Chapter 4
1. Chapter 1

**Preemptive Strike (Or Why Y'All Gonna Regret Coming Back)**

 _Written By: RinoaDestiny_

 _King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, and Chizuru Kagura belong to SNK_

* * *

"This," Iori Yagami growled, "is ridiculous."

"Yeah," Kyo said, agreeing with his long-time rival for once. Normally, agreeing with the likes of Yagami made him question his own sanity, but this time, there was nothing to disagree on. "Kagura-san," he asked, poring over the printouts she'd handed him, "how much of this is confirmed? Or are these just rumors?"

"The only confirmation we currently have is Ash Crimson."

"Fuck him," Iori snarled next to him. Out of the three of them, Crimson had invaded the personal space and stolen the treasures of Yagami and Kagura-san and even though Chizuru said nothing else, Kyo could see the consternation marring her brow. Iori, on the other hand, looked positively murderous, which wasn't surprising. Kyo considered himself lucky. If Crimson had gotten to him, he'd probably want to kill him, too.

For once, he'd sympathized with Yagami.

"What 'bout the others?"

"Hearsay. Rumors on the wind but nothing concrete yet. We may need to wait for the next tournament before we –"

"Bullshit!" Iori interrupted, tossing his own sheaf of papers aside. "Why wait?"

"We don't have any –"

"Bring the fight to them, woman! Why sit around till they invite us?"

Leave it to his rival to be rude and blunt and in this rare case, right. Kyo wasn't looking forward to doing a rehash of 1995 to 1997. Just the thought of it exhausted him. Being the heir of the Kusanagi clan wasn't all it was cracked up to be and if he had to fight and reseal Orochi and his Heavenly Kings again, he'd consider quitting. Like that'd happen.

"Yagami-san," the woman sitting across from both of them said; voice even and patient, "we can't go across the globe destroying things until we have proof. That happens during the tournament."

"Tch," the redhead said. "Stupid, if you ask me."

Again, Kyo couldn't disagree. Was Yagami actually making sense here, or had he been around the other too long? Teamed up with him too much? Or was he just getting annoyed himself at the prospect of facing these enemies again – would they just die already and stay dead – while not doing anything to stop them beforehand?

"Kusanagi-san, what do you think?"

Kyo looked at his rival; Iori stared back at him, no less intense. Chizuru had invited them both to a private tea ceremony and mentioned briefly in the sparse invitation that she needed to discuss something with them. Tea ceremony usually meant kimonos and formal manners, but Kyo hadn't done one in a while and arrived in his usual biker jacket and jeans. Iori, looking like he'd just finished band practice, came in lugging his bass guitar in its case and wearing another one of his outlandish outfits.

It was obvious the man liked purple. Besides the black leather pants with its multiple buckles and straps, Yagami also wore leather wrist cuffs dyed purple and a violet top with a loud pattern on it. It also bared his midriff and Kyo wondered if he'd just recycled his tournament outfit or if this was his usual way of dressing. But that wasn't what confounded him as he returned his opponent's unwavering stare.

Kyo himself sat casually, cross-legged. It was comfortable and still within normal etiquette.

Yagami, on the other hand, sat _seiza_ style. With leather pants. It boggled the mind.

He was really confused today. Agreeing with Yagami? Yagami knowing how to sit properly? Chizuru not chiding them like children?

Did wonders never cease?

"I agree with Yagami. We should be preemptive."

"Interesting coming from you, Kusanagi-san. Your reasons?"

"I thought you didn't put effort into anything, Kyo." His rival smiled, smug and arrogant. If they weren't in Chizuru's formal tea room – Japanese calligraphy on the wall, garden outside, and tea kettle whistling in the middle – Kyo was highly tempted to deck him right there. But that would start a fight and Kagura-san was scary when pissed.

"Shut up, Yagami."

"Ooh, I'm scared."

 _"Boys."_

He straightened up right away. Yagami did the same; Kyo cracked a grin, seeing it.

"If we can stop them, they won't keep coming back. You do realize I'm tired of facing them again?"

"It's your destiny, Kyo Kusanagi," Chizuru said matter-of-factly, succinct and all business.

"Bullshit."

"Yeah, what he said," Kyo said, glancing at Iori.

"You're agreeing with me, Kusanagi?"

"In this, yeah. If they're coming back, they'll drive you nuts too, right?"

"Hmph."

"Since I can't dissuade you both from being extraordinarily bloodthirsty," Chizuru said, looking somewhat perturbed in the serenity of her elegant kimono and surroundings, "do you have any questions?"

"Yeah." The redhead leaned forward, angling off his crossed feet. "Names, woman. Who's coming back?"

"Any you are particularly interested in?"

"Wind boy."

Kyo snickered at the nickname Iori used for one of their most infamous enemies. He remembered the stadium, the flying cows, and the constant spamming of tornado attacks until he himself went cross-eyed trying to spot them before he got hit. "Didn't he crucify you or something?"

Iori fixed him with a stare, unsmiling. Oops. That was still a sore spot.

"Goenitz. You mean Goenitz, Yagami-san."

"Yeah. Is he coming back? Don't want to fight the fucker again."

"It all depends if the Heavenly Kings return."

That reminded him. "Kagura-san, doesn't that include Yashiro Nanakase?"

"Yes."

"Well, fuck me." His rival growled, swiping at the ceramic tea bowl next to him. Kyo blinked. "Him, too?"

Didn't those two have a rivalry as well? Did Yagami make enemies with everyone around him? He watched as Iori took a drink from the tea bowl, the motion oddly delicate. He was done being confused. Delicate and Iori Yagami did not go together in his mind – shouldn't even be linked. Where did he learn any of these manners? He thought the other man uncouth and abrasive. If Yagami had shown up in a kimono, Kyo would've had to pick his eyes off the ground.

"What you looking at?"

"Surprised you have any manners, Yagami."

"Tch. You aren't the only one who knows."

Vague. Nice. Just like Yagami to answer him without answering him. "That also means…"

"CYS."

"Huh?"

"CYS." The other man put his tea bowl down and settled back onto his heels, looking completely at home on the tatami mat. "They formed a band. Went against mine. Mine's was better." There was a savage satisfaction in the other's voice. "Chris, Shermie, and that fucker Nanakase. If Nanakase's gonna be back, his girlfriend will be as well."

"Chris –"

"He's Orochi. I ain't letting him come back." Iori grinned.

"We did seal him not too long ago." Chizuru interjected, drawing their attention back to her. Kyo saw her brow knit again, as if in deep thought. "But even if that accounts for all the Heavenly Kings, we still have the other Hakkesshu to think about."

"Hey, Yagami – I believe two of them are yours."

"They won't be a threat. Keep coming back each year. Think they like me or some shit like that."

This was the weirdest conversation he was having with his rival. It was also the most he'd heard Iori Yagami say outside of meaningless death threats. Chizuru was playing mediator, so perhaps that was why they weren't trying to kill each other. That, and Iori's bass guitar was propped against the wall, so maybe Yagami was restraining himself as well.

He knew Yagami was in a band but seeing his instrument in hand was something else.

"You actually play that?" He pointed at the guitar case.

"Yeah," the other man said lazily. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing."

"You curious, Kyo?"

He shrugged. Okay, he was. A little. "You any good at it?"

"Beat out CYS, didn't I?"

"While I'm glad you boys are actually being civil, let's get back to the discussion at hand, shall we?"

It seemed that any time he and Yagami were in the same place together, it was easy to forget the rest of the world outside. Something about their natural connection, being rivals and all and how even Kagura-san's beautiful ceremonial tea room faded from his attention. Looking at Iori, he noticed that the same happened to the other man, who refocused on Chizuru with sharp eyes.

"You sure, Yagami-san, that Vice and Mature will not –"

"They're goddamn with me all the time. They won't. They know that."

Kyo heard the underlying threat in the words. Considering the two women were Yagami's teammates, perhaps he knew how best to control them. Not a word he liked to use but it seemed to apply in this case with the intonation Iori used.

"Kagura-san, you know the rest?"

"There's also Ryuji Yamazaki."

"Oh, _him_." He'd traded blows with that crazy bastard in the arena before. Guy was as psycho as Yagami. Perhaps just a little bit more so, since he didn't even speak normally. "But he's still around. Verse didn't bring him back."

"That leaves us with the last one: Gaidel."

"Who?"

"Yeah, who's that?" Iori asked next to him, interest apparent in his voice.

"He's Leona's biological father. You should know whom I'm referring to. Heidern's daughter."

Well, that was surprising. Kyo didn't even realize she wasn't Heidern's actual daughter. The two seemed like father and daughter to him, just military-style. Finding out she actually had a father out there – possibly resurrected thanks to Verse – was an eye-opener. He just hoped that Gaidel wasn't like Goenitz, Nanakase, or Yamazaki. Leona wasn't a bad person or even someone he disliked in or out of the arena – she seemed well-put together, with the exception of her Riot of Blood. If her father was decent, Kyo would like to keep his hands clean.

Which brought his attention back to Yagami.

His rival was off his heels again, leaning forward. The ends of his straps hung loose, spilling onto the clean tatami mat and the sharp planes of his face gave him a feral appearance. "Leona's old man, huh? Well." A dark chuckle emanated from his throat. "Be interesting fighting him."

"Oi, Yagami."

"What is it, Kyo?"

"We don't know if he's like the rest of them. Hadn't even heard of him before."

"We'll find out, won't we?"

There was that. "Suppose we will. Kagura-san, that's all of them, correct?"

"Yes. Now before you boys go tearing off setting things on fire, listen to me. We don't know their locations. Most of this is, as I said, hearsay. The smart thing to do is to stay in Japan. If we hear anything, we'll know soon enough. Most of Orochi's minions cannot keep from revealing themselves. You both know this as well."

"Woman, I went searching for Kyo years before and found him. Before anyone else. Finding those snakes won't be hard."

"Yagami-san, you're the last person who should stick your hand in a snake pit."

"She has a point, Yagami."

Iori bared his teeth. "Bite me, Kyo."

"If I team up with you – _again_ – how do I know you won't Riot on me? Can you guarantee that you won't?"

"That's up to you, isn't it, Kyo? You trust me enough to do this together?"

"Did you just willingly offer to team up with me yourself?"

Iori laughed. "Don't think I'm going easy on you, Kyo. I'll still kill you one day. But if we're going up against those snakes, Kusanagi's a name they remember."

"All team efforts."

"Still." The other man shrugged, casual and dangerous. "You agree with me? Take them out before they blow shit up in our face next year?"

"Yeah."

The expression on Chizuru's face was one Kyo hadn't seen before. Was she puzzled, relieved, exasperated or a little bit of each? Usually, trying to yoke them together as a team was like linking a water buffalo with an ass – Kyo already knew who was the ass – and needed her direct intervention. And here they were, him and Yagami both, overriding her objections so that they could work together to make first blood on unsuspecting enemies.

Maybe she was confused.

Considering how today was going, she had company.

"So," he said, glancing at Iori and then back to Chizuru, "when do we start?"

"Have a concert tour to finish first." Yagami said, nonchalant, already reaching for his guitar case. "When I'm done with that, I'll find you, Kyo."

Kyo rolled his eyes. "Of course you will."

"I'm off," his rival said, standing and nodding at Chizuru Kagura, whose expression altered a bit at that. "You hear anything, I want to know. You coming back next year?"

"I'm considering it."

"Kagura-san, please do." While they've only teamed up a few times, it made all the difference. "Not quite the same without you."

"Pleased to hear that, Kusanagi-san."

"Hmph."

"You can be more polite, Yagami."

"Tch. I'll find you, Kyo. Don't disappear."

"Yeah yeah." Like all their other meetings, Kyo found they naturally concluded and usually without any formalities. "NESTS is gone. I'm going nowhere."

"Good," the redhead growled.

"See you, Kagura-san. Nice place you have here."

"Keep yourself safe, Kusanagi-san. Yagami-san, watch yourself."

As he made to leave, Kyo saw that remark slide off his rival without Iori even acknowledging it. The other man already made for the gate, bass guitar across his back and each stride casual and free. Kyo knew he only had to make for his bike and then off he went, zipping through this side of Osaka with the wind in his face. To home, to his parents, to Yuki, and to what promised to be an excellent meal to end the day.

Yeah, that sounded good.

"Yagami," he said by way of farewell as he passed him on route to his bike.

"Kyo," the other responded by default. Some things never changed.

"Don't break your back looking for me."

His rival snorted and turned towards downtown. Laughing, Kyo passed him, already increasing speed. Before they smacked down Nanakase, he had to ask the other fighter just how good Yagami's bass skills really were. He was, after all, curious.

* * *

 **Notes** : The part where Kyo makes that remark about Iori being crucified by Goenitz is referencing the semi-canon manga, "The King of Fighters: Kyo" where Goenitz does exactly that. Not one of Iori's best moments and really shows how much of a douchebag Goenitz is.

Was planning to make this a one-shot, but I'm considering leaving it open. Thinking about post-KoF XIV Kyo and Iori being so sick and tired of all the old enemies returning so that they go proactive amuses me. May consider adding more content in the future, because this team-up outside of the tournament is bound to cause some crazy stuff to happen.

Was listening to the Okami soundtrack while writing this. Hilarious in hindsight, considering the whole premise of that game's story (hey there, Japanese mythology!)


	2. Chapter 2

**Preemptive Strike (Or Why Y'All Gonna Regret Coming Back)**

 **Chapter 2**

 _Written By: RinoaDestiny_

 _King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, and Chizuru Kagura belong to SNK_

* * *

A month and a half passed in relative bliss and boredom, unless he spent that time with Benimaru and Goro. Most days, Kyo took it easy. Enjoyed the weather, drove around on his bike, spent some time at eateries checking out the latest food fads, and did some light training. He was still young – had survived some incredible things at his age – and didn't let any of that time go to waste. After Chizuru Kagura's meeting with him and his rival, Kyo knew to cherish the free days he had.

On the best days, he spent them with Yuki.

And of course, on one of those days, Yagami showed up nice and personal. Asshat.

He had invited Yuki out for a movie – some romantic action comedy that entertained him and made her blush and giggle – and then armed with snacks and drinks, they found a delightful little park to while away the time. Yuki sat down on one of the benches – looking pretty in her yellow dress – and Kyo sat next to her and they began to talk. It was amusing and since Kyo didn't work, hearing Yuki's stories of her daily work life allowed him a glimpse into her days. She was in the middle of describing a hectic day at the office, complete with hand motions, when she stared behind him. Stopped and said, "Kyo."

Well, fuck. Who else could it be?

"Yagami," he said without turning back to look at the other man.

"Kyo," that familiar baritone replied. Goddammit. Why now, of all times?

Yuki gazed at him, worry apparent in her face. "Kyo, should we leave?"

"Should be okay. _Right_ , Yagami?"

"Tch. Don't waste my time. You know what this is about."

Yeah, he knew. Yagami's tour was done and he'd found him, true to form. His own personal stalker. "Yuki, wait here. I'll be back soon."

"You sure it's all right, Kyo? You two tend to fight a lot."

"I'll be okay. Just wait for me."

"Okay."

He stood, turned to find Iori Yagami standing behind him – creepy as hell – and motioned with a jerk of his head towards the side of the park next to some trees. Whatever Yagami had planned, he didn't want it within earshot of Yuki. The other man didn't say anything, just casually strolled over to their destination and waited with a hint of impatience. Kyo followed, keeping his stride fluid and carefree, matching Yagami's nonchalance.

Two could play that game.

"Shit timing, Yagami," he said as he approached the redhead, glaring. "You follow me around all the time like this?"

His rival didn't react. Just handed him an envelope.

Kyo took it, quickly taking in the pinstriped lavender shirt and white jeans the other wore. Yagami's fashion sense was atrocious but this actually looked normal. _Must be crazy._ He turned the envelope over, saw the tucked in flap, and opened it. Inside was a flight ticket.

He removed it, skimmed through it, blinked once, read it again and then looked at Iori.

"France? Yagami, I don't speak French."

The other man didn't say anything.

" _You_ don't speak French. Why the hell are we…oh. Crimson."

"Bastard owes me. Needs settling."

Kyo read the ticket again, taking in the details. One way trip to Paris, France from Kansai International Airport, Osaka. Great. That meant close to a thirteen hour flight. Economy class. Of course. Yagami went on tour, had money – had bought _his_ flight ticket – but couldn't afford to shell out more cash for something more comfortable. His legs already felt cramped; he didn't know how Yagami handled it with how tall he was.

Air France. Standard. He looked at the seating and was suddenly suspicious. He looked again at his rival – stared hard this time.

"Yagami. Where's your seat?"

Iori handed him his flight ticket; face straight the entire time.

Kyo found his impossible to maintain once he saw what the seating on both tickets confirmed. Thrusting the tickets in his rival's face, he refrained from throwing them back at Iori. "You trying to kill us both before takeoff? Or are we taking the plane down over the runway?"

"Look at the date, Kyo."

Reading the date and time only made Kyo moodier. "Really, Yagami? Tomorrow morning at ten? Shit timing and short notice."

"It was."

" _We don't speak French_. Don't know if you noticed but we had translators during the last tournament Crimson was in. Most I know is _'bonjour.'_ Couldn't even get breakfast with that without the team translator speaking to hotel management."

"Your accent's terrible."

"Yeah, well, fuck you."

"My ticket. Don't want you burning it. You may not work for your money, Kyo but I do."

"You go crazy again or something? Why right next to each other?"

"Told you. Short notice."

"Short notice my ass. You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

The lavender-dressed redhead just returned his glare with a cool gaze. "My ticket, Kyo."

"Window seats. Why not aisle?"

"Short notice. I like window seats. My ticket, Kyo or I _will_ kill you."

Shoving Iori's ticket back at him, Kyo figured this was the worst mistake he made in his life. _Thanks, Verse, you asshole!_ If he went along with the plan like they'd discussed, he needed some quick parental one-on-one. Might be able to persuade his mom but his dad... Somehow, he wasn't too optimistic about that discussion. _Hey, Dad. Yagami and I are gonna go globetrotting to put down some bad guys. No, he won't kill me. No, I'm not killing him. Yes, we worked as a team before. Several times in fact. You know Chizuru Kagura, Dad? Ask her for details. Yeah, Dad – I'll be fine._

Yeah, wasn't going to work. Saisyu Kusanagi trusted a member of the Yagami clan as far as he could spit and that wasn't far. There was no way in hell he'd trust his son to go off with his known enemy and make it back home in one piece. Not only would his ticket be confiscated (burned), unless his mom got involved – Shizuka Kusanagi was scary in that calm way – but he'd get an earful and _could_ his dad talk.

Ugh.

"You going or not?" Iori's question broke through the momentary diversion playing out in his head. He was becoming a master of glaring today. "Not sure after your little bitch fest if you're still interested."

"Are those tickets refundable?"

"I take it I'm going solo."

"Dammit, Yagami. You could've…I don't know…given me a heads-up before springing this on me while I'm on a date!"

"Those snakes won't wait for us. You want to wait until the next tournament? I'll see you there, then."

"Dammit, stop!"

Iori, who had turned and was preparing to walk away from him, turned back, still coolly assessing him. Kyo had no idea if he'd ever looked that smug; the expression on the other's face alone warranted a punch. "Look, you just sprung this on me and all. Still don't get why you got the seats the way you did but…"

"You want to come, don't you?"

"You've made your points. Just –"

"What?"

"You gonna survive the flight?" _Hell, am I? What does Yagami do on a flight, anyway?_

"It's thirteen hours, Kyo. Find something to do. Leave me alone. Play some music. Do something."

"Hah. Easier when I'm not sitting next to you."

"Hmph." The redhead looked off to the side. "Your girlfriend's still waiting for you. I got the window, by the way."

"No fair. You did do it on purpose."

"If you were paying, it's your call, but you ain't, so I choose. I mean it, Kyo. Find something to do. Glare at the kid kicking your seat. Sweet talk the stewardess. Don't care. Just leave me alone and we're fine."

"And you?"

"You'll find out." Ah, yes, Iori Yagami always being the secretive one. "Ten in the morning tomorrow, Kyo. You know the drill. I'll see you, then."

Kyo watched as Iori left for good this time – that lavender shirt was hideous – and walked back to Yuki, still holding his ticket. _His_ ticket. That Yagami bought for him. He guessed he should be grateful but damn if the other man had no sense of proper timing. As he approached the bench, Yuki stood, a bright presence. Next morning. If he survived this – if he survived seating, takeoff, landing, and everything else – he was coming home and meeting up with Yuki first thing. Remembering her was what kept him going through NESTS and already, she was a soft comfort that offered him strength of a different sort.

He sighed.

"What's wrong, Kyo?" He loved how she said his name. "Is everything all right?"

"Have a flight to catch tomorrow morning. With him."

Yuki's eyes widened. "But that's so…"

"Sudden. Yeah."

"No. I mean…don't you two fight? You won't hurt each other?"

"Not if he wants to live. You know I do. Have to come back to you, Yuki."

That made her color, a faint flush in her cheeks. He had thanked her so many times over for waiting for him – such a long wait years before – and here he was off again. Such was the life of a fighter and the Kusanagi heir.

"But Kyo…your parents…"

"Yeah. Not looking forward to that."

"Your father…"

"Yuki?"

"Yes?"

He handed her his ticket. "I'll get it back from you later. Dad'll just burn it. I should know. Was tempted to do the same myself."

* * *

 **Comments** : So, first thing I heard in my head when starting this was "We don't speak French." That was before words got written down. Which leads me to wonder how the hell everyone seems to understand everyone else during the tournaments – I highly doubt certain characters are fluent in Japanese and I highly doubt the Japanese fighters can understand the language of the other fighters who are not (Ramon, Kim, etc.). This especially pertains to the introductions, which I believe is SNK hand-waving a fictional Babel fish, which is great in-game and has so much misunderstanding potential outside of it.

Also, I really like Yuki, as little as she shows up. There's so much that can be done with her in Kyo's life even if she doesn't take front and center, but the fact that she shows up in the canon Sacred Treasures ending in '97? She means a lot to him, so I like exploring their relationship whenever it becomes relevant in my fics.


	3. Chapter 3

**Preemptive Strike (Or Why Y'All Gonna Regret Coming Back)**

 **Chapter 3**

 _Written By: RinoaDestiny_

 _King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, and Chizuru Kagura belong to SNK_

* * *

 **Kansai International Airport, Osaka**

 **Terminal 1 – 7:00 AM**

 **Second Floor - Sukiya**

He had arrived at Kansai International around 6:45 (had asked Benimaru the night before for a drop-off at the airport, since he wasn't leaving his bike there for who knows how long) and he was hungry, tired, and not looking forward to being strapped in and airborne next to his rival for the next thirteen hours. Since security tended to go swiftly for him – most everyone knew his face by now – Kyo decided to go grab a bite to eat, as unorthodox a breakfast it was.

Sukiya was one of those spots he liked to frequent. Constantly open and with some decent food, he made himself a known customer every time he had to fly out for yet another tournament. Ordering a plate of curry and some green tea – who knew how long it'd be before he had Japanese comfort food again – he decided to sit down, enjoy his food, and take his time. At most, he needed to be at the gate by 8:30.

He was not eager to see his rival. If Yagami was already here, he was steering clear of him until he was fed, awake, and in a considerably better mood. Seeing him now was a recipe for disaster.

Kyo took a gulp of tea and ate another bite of curry with his rice. Felt himself become more alert. Awake.

Yeah, he was gonna make the other man wait. Asshat.

* * *

 **Terminal 1 – 7:30 AM**

 **Security**

Kyo yawned. Checked the time on his phone. Still early and the line for the security screening was somewhat long. Usually, he flew out during the busy season – funny how that worked during all the King of Fighters tournaments – so he hadn't seen Kansai International during its off-season. There was still a decent-sized crowd bustling about. The family of four ahead of him all had oversized luggage to check in and several carry-ons. They had to get scanned, checked, the whole nine yards. It was going to take a while.

Having done this several times before, Kyo packed light. One carry-on only and his passport, money, and boarding pass in the traveler's pouch slung diagonally across his chest. Due to Yagami's short as fuck notice, he'd spent the late hours last night rummaging through his room, slinging all manner of junk around until he found his passport, some cash (had to drop by the ATM this morning to get some more), and his headphones.

He intended to listen to his rock music and tune out the other man if he complained. Whatever Yagami did was his own business.

The family before him stepped up to the counter, exchanging pleasantries with the airport staff. He was up next. Just a little bit longer.

Thinking back to his boarding pass (his ticket), it was a good thing he'd entrusted Yuki with it. His dad was not only ready to burn it to ashes, but also wanted to go straight to Yagami and give him a proper dressing down. Somehow, Kyo couldn't see Iori Yagami being intimidated by an old man past his prime chewing him out. Knowing his rival, the redhead would scoff, ignore Saisyu, and go about his own business without giving a damn.

Because that was Yagami. That was how he worked.

That didn't mean his father relented on him, though. Kyo had his ears verbally singed off as his dad gave him a piece of his own mind. While Saisyu was relatively mild-mannered and extraordinarily laidback, he was right that his dad would vehemently oppose what he called the "nonsensical plan" and let him know in precise, unmistakable terms what he thought of it.

Part of him still cringed, recalling it.

 _"So he suggested it and you just decided 'Why not?' without questioning why? Have you been paying attention, son? The man wants you dead."_

 _"He'd have done it by now if that was true. Besides –"_

 _"Besides nothing, Kyo. You need to call this off. Tell him you changed your mind."_

 _"Ha!" He'd listened with half an ear, realizing his dad had no idea why he'd agreed to go along with Yagami's plan. "Right. Tell Yagami I'm backing out. He'll take nicely to that. Will probably come tearing after me demanding the price of my airfare."_

 _"Where's your ticket?"_

 _"Not telling you that, Dad."_

 _"Kyo, son…I'm not playing around here. This is serious."_

 _"I'm not joking, either, Dad. Yagami has a point. We can take them out now. Together."_

 _"Why with him? He's not reliable, son. You know that."_

 _"Yes, but I know him, Dad. I know how he fights. He does, too, in reverse. We have worked together before. I don't want to wait for them to initiate battle. Better we put them down now."_

 _"And if he kills you? What then?"_

 _He had scoffed. Wondered if some of his rival's mannerisms were rubbing off onto him. "Yeah right. He can't kill me, Dad. Not in a straight fight. Only time he nearly did was during that one tournament and he wasn't even himself, then."_

 _"So why? Tell me, Kyo."_

 _"I'm sick and tired of always fighting them. Fulfilling the call. All of that destiny spiel everyone keeps going on about. I'm done with it."_

 _"It is your destiny, son. Part of your responsibility as heir of this family."_

 _"Destiny can go shove itself, then."_

 _That got his dad fired up. "So you, son, want to entrust your very life in this nonsensical plan, place it in the hands of your enemy and look the other way because it's too much for you? I didn't raise you like that, Kyo. Neither did your mother."_

 _"But –"_

 _"And another thing. You don't know what this idea of his entails. No details besides fighting the seven –"_

 _"Four, Dad. Two of them are Yagami's teammates and he swears –"_

 _"Since when do his promises count?"_

 _He ignored his father's curt interruption. "The other is Orochi now, so he can't come back. I'm telling you, Dad. We've got this –"_

 _"You've got nothing, Kyo. You're still wet behind the ears, thinking you can deal with everything by fighting it. That's not how it works, son. You're going to hit that wall eventually and I can't help you when you do. That heir of that traitor clan won't do anything for you. He's out for himself – you're just a tool for him. If you think he's being altruistic –"_

 _"He's being realistic."_

 _"And you're being a fool. Stop this now, Kyo."_

Yeah, that went _really_ well for him last night. Only his mother's timely intervention prevented him from devolving the discussion into an outright quarrel with his dad and it left his ears ringing. His dad had never called him a fool before – obviously, he now thought he was.

 _Thanks, Dad._

The line moved forward. It was his turn now. About time.

"One carry-on." He knew the drill, the procedures. Security was nothing – a breeze to him.

"Any oversized luggage?"

"No."

"Your boarding pass, please."

He handed it over. Next up after all this was waiting at the gate. He hoped Yagami was late. Had overslept. Thinking about his rival making a mad dash out onto the runway amused him. Yeah, he could see that. It made him want to laugh visualizing it in his head.

He needed to humor himself. Thirteen hours. The hell, man.

* * *

 **Terminal 1 – 8:25 AM**

 **Gate: South/38**

He saw his rival at a distance the very moment he approached the gate for Air France international departure on route to Paris. It was hard to mistake the red hair, the lanky and tall frame, and the nonchalance the other man carried himself with for anyone else. Iori reminded Kyo of a leopard or panther at rest, claws stilled but very much aware of its surroundings and any encroaching threats. Even now, leaning against a standing column next to his only carry-on (a hard red case), Yagami gave standoffish vibes and an attitude of indifference.

Kyo studied his rival, unable not to. For once, the other man was dressed reasonably. Surprisingly, the colors were subdued – not the screaming loud colors of his band getup or those godawful purple shirts. Iori wore a dark gray overcoat, a black scarf, a dark blue sweater, black jeans, and a pair of well broken in black boots. Was France going through a cold clime or something? Osaka wasn't anywhere near cold temperatures yet.

Just as he thought this, still sizing up the other man, Iori glanced up and saw him. Headphones dangled from his ears. Was he listening to music? His rival made an impatient gesture. Well, hell. So it began.

Kyo responded by flipping him off. He was staying right where he was, goddammit. He wasn't going to willingly put himself near his rival, not if he could help it. Soon, they'd be sitting right next to each other and if the plane didn't go down or implode, it'll be a goddamn fucking miracle.

Yagami had yanked the headphones out of his ears and was making a straight beeline in his direction. Well, shit. Someone was off to an early start of making his life hell.

"You made it after all, Kyo."

"Yeah, no thanks to you, asshole. Mind telling me why you want me anywhere near close to you?"

"Things happen, Kusanagi." The redhead sneered. "If the flight gets delayed, I'm not dragging your ass out of some store just because you think we have plenty of time. I paid for your ticket. You are not missing the flight."

"So you're babysitting me now, Yagami?"

"You consider yourself one, Kyo?" His rival smiled. It made Kyo want to knock out some teeth. "I didn't say anything about babysitting."

Dammit! Only Yagami did this to him – made him say things that in hindsight insulted himself. Seemed to be the other's calling card and one that was well practiced. He was _so_ going to enjoy the next several hours sitting elbow to elbow with this asshole.

"Before I go park my ass away from you, what were you doing?"

"What do you think, Kusanagi?"

Yeah. Great start. "Don't tell me."

"Music. You should know what genre."

"Jazz?"

"Oh, good. Kusanagi's a genius after all."

"Shut up." Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Kyo made for a vacant seat further away, presenting his back to Iori. When he finally plopped himself down and got comfortable, the other man had returned to his original spot, had his headphones back in, and was tapping beats out on his arm with his fingers.

So Yagami listened to music while on flight? That was welcome news for Kyo, who intended to do the same. Maybe they wouldn't kill each other this way, unless he insulted the other man's musical tastes. It wasn't that jazz was bad – it was simply Kyo didn't get it. There was no fire to it, no passion, no power behind it. Jazz was elevator music, easy listening for old fogies, and lounge music for anyone who wanted to chill and fall asleep.

Say that to Yagami, though, and flames were going to come out.

For his own safety – for the safety of the other passengers – he was going to keep his mouth shut.

Kyo pulled out his own phone and cycled through several playlists he'd put together. Rock was his go-to music. Give him the wailing guitars, the heavy percussion, the hot-blooded singers that made him feel alive and young and strong. Yagami could keep his drowsy music with the saxophones.

He put his headphones in and waited.

* * *

 **Terminal 1 – 9:30 AM**

 **Gate: South/38**

 **Boarding**

He'd listened to two playlists for about an hour – dug out his charger and plugged that in to keep the juice flowing to his phone – while keeping his eyes on his rival. Iori remained disinterested in all else save his own music. There was also a charger plugged into the power socket in the column. The wire dangled from Iori's phone, a sleek white cord. The other man's eyes were closed and he was still tapping out beats.

Kyo guessed that Yagami took his profession as a musician seriously. He'd never thought that was so, until he saw this. It was a side to his rival that he'd never seen before. It was strange, seeing him like this.

Then, the boarding announcement came over the airport's intercom. Kyo grabbed his bag and saw Iori's eyes snap open even as the man began moving towards the quickly gathering line of passengers. Damn. He wanted to get the jump on him, get ahead, grab his window seat, and rub it into his face. What was Yagami going to do? Shove him face-first out the window? Throw him unceremoniously into the cargo hold? Set him on fire?

Then again, it was possible. His rival never had a full deck of cards and something was always missing upstairs.

A gesture and another impatient look from the other man. Yeah, yeah. He got it. Time to board. He wasn't stupid, even if Yagami thought he was. He just needed to maintain some distance, board when he liked, dammit! Just because Yagami bought his ticket didn't mean he called all the shots.

Kyo deliberately held back and placed at least ten people between him and his rival. Not that it helped much. With his height and Yagami's towering over the other shorter passengers, Yagami's red hair stood out like a goddamn beacon. It was like seeing a flamboyant bird among down-to-earth idiot pigeons.

He didn't reflect on himself, how he looked to others.

At least he was normal.

The line moved, he moved, and they split their own way into the different classes after crossing the long corridor: economy, business, first class, and some others Kyo hadn't seen before. He still cursed Yagami for not purchasing business or first class. At least he'd have room to stretch in those. Plenty of space for his legs. Here? In shitty economy? If he didn't fall over dead from a blood clot, it'll be another fucking miracle.

Boarding should've been easy. How hard was it to find the seat, shove the baggage into the overhead compartment and sit down?

Obviously a bit much for his seatmate. Fucking great.

Yagami was stalling the line – pulling something out of his case – and it took all of Kyo's patience not to yell at him down the length of the aisle. Other passengers grumbled, too polite to say anything, and Kyo counted all of two minutes before the line began moving again. About time. When he reached his seat, he made an emphasized point to shove his carry-on into the compartment, sit down, buckle up, and glare at Iori Yagami.

Then, he saw what the redhead had taken his time removing from his case.

It was the biggest goddamn book Kyo had ever seen outside of a classroom. Yagami liked to read? For leisure? For fun? What the hell?

"You held us up for a _book_?"

"Huh?" The other said, not paying him any attention. He was already looking out the window, focused elsewhere.

"You made us wait for a book. A book, Yagami. The hell you reading anyway?"

"What'd you care? Listen to your music, Kyo. Leave me alone."

Right. He had said that yesterday after crashing his date with Yuki. Fucker. Kyo took a look at the title, which was written in some complex _kanji_. Was Yagami a rocket scientist or something? That looked too high-level even for him.

"Few things, Kyo. It's early. I'm tired. Going to sleep once the plane takes off. Don't wake me. Play some games. Make it quiet."

"Since when did you go dictating the terms?"

"I'll fry your screen if you wake me up."

"Threats, Yagami. You won't do it."

"Try me."

Well, this was just great. He had to endure thirteen hours of this.

"Asshole."

"Dipshit. Night, Kyo. Don't make eyes at the girl sitting across from you."

"Fuck you."

"Ha."

* * *

 **Departure from Kansai International Airport, Osaka**

 **Air France**

 **10:15 AM – 12:00 PM**

Kyo found himself adopting a particularly bad habit this time around. His phone was out – charged, of course – which made checking the time periodically a reflex, almost. Not only did Yagami really go lights out once the plane took off (face pressed against the window) but his fiendishly long legs stretched into Kyo's territory. With as little leg room he had, this was unwelcome. Only the threat of Yagami scorching him kept him from shaking the man awake.

He wanted to survive the flight. Anything that kept Iori Yagami tame helped.

So he listened to his music. Found some additional saved playlists and went through those. Once the novelty of that ran dry, he found himself bored.

He went poking through the touchscreen in the seat facing him. Found a few movies that looked interesting but were in languages he didn't know. Were there any Japanese flicks he could watch? He went through those. Found a few rom-coms that Yuki would probably like but he wouldn't be caught dead watching. There was one _samurai_ flick that was new, so he decided to check that one out.

The acting was hammy, the action overdone, and the music so melodramatic that he wanted to kill himself less than fifteen minutes into it. Japan did produce good films – hell, he'd seen a few – but why were so many of them terrible?

He didn't realize he was swearing under his breath until an annoyed deep voice broke into his thoughts. "Kyo, shut the hell up."

Well, well, well. Yagami was listening, after all.

"Put on your headphones."

"Turn the volume down or shut up." His rival rolled over against his side even more – how was that possible with his build? – pulling his legs in as he readjusted his sleeping position. That looked uncomfortable. Kyo felt cramped just looking at Iori scrunched up like that. "The movie sucks. Thought you'd like to know."

 _Geez. Thanks._

He was about to retort but the other fighter was already asleep again. He was left with a shitty movie and was bored out of his goddamn mind. Kyo took out his phone again and looked at the time. Argh. They were only two hours into the flight?

Maybe things would improve after lunch. It was a thirteen hour flight – he could hope for some nourishment, right? Perhaps soon?

He settled back into his seat. Looked at Yagami sleeping peacefully. Cursed him in his mind, and then cursed himself.

This was gonna suck.

* * *

 **Air France**

 **12:00 PM – 1:00 PM**

Air France served lunch within the hour. Great. He could do with some food. Take his mind off that stupid-ass movie, off his rival sleeping like a big baby next to him, and fill his stomach. Maybe it'll knock him out afterwards.

The flight stewardesses came by, rolling their food cart down the aisle and Kyo hoped the selections would be edible. He found most airline food to be ass; unless he was flying some Asian or Middle Eastern flight – those cuisines were promising – and he wanted some protein now. They tended not to serve fish during flights (microwaved fish smelled like shit) but he hoped for beef, pork, or chicken. No salads, please.

The two women serving smiled at him and one of them spoke decently fluent Japanese. Well, hello. That removed a language barrier and made it that much easier for him to decide.

They had a lunch offering of grilled chicken with fruit on the side, a croissant, and orange or cranberry juice. He could also go with sparkling Perrier water if he so chose. The second offering leaned more towards vegetarian. Immediate pass.

He selected the first, went with the sparkling water, and then the stewardess (pretty with green eyes and dark brown hair) asked him if his seatmate would like lunch. Kyo looked at Iori – still asleep, limbs bunched up tight – and shook his head.

If Yagami wanted to eat, that was his call.

Maybe he'd save his crackers or mixed nuts or whatever the hell was in the seat pouch in front of him. Have him nibble on those. See how he liked that.

Kyo dug into his meal. Put his rival out of mind for now.

* * *

 **Air France**

 **2:00 PM – 2:15 PM**

Iori glared at him. "You should've woken me up, you fuck."

Kyo smiled. "Oh? Didn't you say not to? Your fault, Yagami. Here – have some nuts."

If looks could kill, Yagami was on the verge of doing it. It was amusing, even if deadly. "Kusanagi, you brat."

"Just wait for dinner. I'm sure they offer that. Why don't you flag down a stewardess? Maybe she can help you."

The other man scowled. "You fucking…"

"Nuts or nothing, Yagami."

His rival seized the tiny bag, ripped it open, and ate the contents in one handful. Continued glowering at him. Kyo grinned. This was way too easy.

* * *

 **Air France**

 **2:30 PM – 4:00 PM**

He had cause to regret making Iori miss his lunch, because the other man doled out equal payback. While Yagami could've caused a scene by yelling or throwing stuff at him, Kyo found that his rival could be subtle in other ways. It got under his skin faster and it was hard to counter. Iori did it all with that irritating smirk of his or let his tone of voice deliver the barbs; Kyo bristled but stuck here with his archenemy left him with very few options.

For one thing, Iori had the window seat. That meant the first time the other man left to hit the lavatory, Kyo nearly got Yagami's boot in the face.

"Hey! Asswipe!"

"Move your face, Kyo. Or get out of your goddamn seat. Stop whining."

"You almost got your boot print in my face!"

"So?" That smug smile. "Deal with it, Kusanagi. Outta my way!"

That was the first. The second…well, that came later.

They both had time to burn, figuratively. If he and Yagami were smart and didn't want to accidentally kill themselves, liberally using flames in the enclosed space was a no-go. Kyo was bored again – most of the movies sucked ass – and the games were mind-numbingly repetitive. He could've surfed the web or listened to music on his phone but he'd gone through all his playlists and there was nothing left.

Meanwhile, Iori Yagami sat to his left, poring over that huge-ass book of his; pencil in hand, jotting notes in the page margins. Kyo, never seeing this side of his rival before, couldn't help but pester him. That unleashed subtly pissed off Yagami 2.0. It was a great experience to be had.

"The hell you reading?"

"Music theory. Leave me alone, Kyo."

"Fuck you need music theory for? Don't you just play bass?"

"I forgot. You don't study. Shut up, Kyo. Go listen to your music."

"Went through all my playlists."

His rival snorted and made another note on the page. "Not my fault you're ill-prepared."

"If you weren't here, I'll be sleeping already. In peace."

"Do that, then. Leave me alone."

"Didn't realize you could write." What he meant was that Yagami's handwriting, while tight and small, was fairly legible and the characters precise and sharp. Kinda like his Yasakani-style martial arts, now that he thought about it. He'd assumed the other wrote in chicken-scratch but the way how the characters filled the side of the page reminded him of his teachers' notes on his homework back when he was in school. "What's that mean?"

The other man's brow creased in annoyance. "Kusanagi, get your finger away from the page."

"Just curious."

"I'll fucking stab you through the hand if you don't take your finger away now."

"Temper, Yagami."

"You want graphite through your palm? I'll do it, Kyo."

"You won't."

There was an unpleasant gleam to the redhead's eyes. "Don't push your luck. Finger away now or you'll lose it."

Kyo was tempted to push further but the vibe Yagami exuded warned him not to be stupid. Reluctantly, he removed the offending digit and slumped back into his seat, pouting. What was there to do?

"That girl's looking at you again. Make friends with her, Kyo."

"Fuck you."

"Do that to yourself. You're a pain in the ass, anyway."

"Says the biggest asshole here."

There was a sound, which got Kyo to turn in time to see his rival popping in his earbuds, tapping something on his phone, and returning to his book. He glanced at the playlist. Jazz – music for old people and odd-ass people like Yagami. Fine. He wanted to do it that way. Kyo could entertain himself. Maybe he'll play one of the games really loud.

That led to incident number three.

Iori hadn't been kidding when he said he'd fry his screen. After playing one of those ball launching and brick bashing games with the volume turned up high enough to override Yagami's music – Kyo ignored the glares from the passengers around him – his rival had enough. One hand flicked out, there was a slight tongue of purple flame that licked under the glass, and suddenly, his display shorted out and went black.

Just like that. Nothing.

Kyo stared at his rival, bewildered. Yagami wasn't even looking at him. Was looking at the goddamn book.

He sat back into his seat, burying himself deep and hauled his phone out of his pocket.

Looked at it.

Pulled his headphones out, put them back into his ears, and went through the playlists again.

* * *

 **Air France**

 **5:00 PM – 6:00 PM**

Kyo passed out. He was tired, grumpy, and hated being next to his life-long rival. Found himself falling asleep, headphones still wedged firmly in his ears. Rock music blared.

Thought he heard "About goddamn time" from his left.

Then he stopped hearing music.

* * *

 **Air France**

 **6:00 PM – 7:00 PM**

"Hey, dipshit. You want dinner or not?"

Kyo stirred, feeling the hard edge of Iori's elbow in his side. Motherfuck. What did he…did he say dinner? Opening his eyes greeted him with the welcome sight of a friendly stewardess, who then asked if he wanted anything to eat.

Sure he did. Still bleary-eyed from sleep, he made a selection, shuffled in his seat – goddamn the space – and pulled out his tray, which only cramped his legs more.

Next to him, Yagami watched a foreign film with Japanese subtitles. The airline's provided headphones cupped his head like an alien lifeform. He could only see one eye; the other being obscured by his rival's fringe of hair. That lone eye reflected the events on the screen. Was that a French film?

"You trying to learn the language or something?"

Yagami didn't even blink. "Back at it, Kyo? Shut up and eat."

He wanted to say something but he was hungry.

"Could've done the same. Let you miss dinner. But you're a brat, Kusanagi and you whine. If we're gonna make it to Charles de Gaulle Airport, I'd rather not have you whining the whole way."

"I. Don't. Whine."

"Annoying, then. Whatever. Eat, Kyo. Let me watch my movie."

 _He's trying to learn French? Mangled that pronunciation but…_

"You're serious about this, aren't you?"

"Kusanagi…shut up."

Iori's hands were clenched around the ends of his armrests. Kyo observed this and decided the best course of action was to eat his dinner and be quiet. He had no screen left to look at. His phone needed charging. The food was lukewarm. People around him were asleep. If he started something, he was probably going to get them kicked off the plane and then Yagami was probably going to follow through on his life-long goal and kill him for real.

He still didn't like reading his movies, though. Better not tell Yagami that.

* * *

 **Air France**

 **8:00 PM – 9:00 PM**

His rival was buried in that stupid book again, the sidelight casting illumination onto the marked pages. He had no idea why Yagami dedicated himself to music theory. Yeah, he was a bassist – touring musician – but Kyo just thought that meant playing. A lot. He didn't realize there were things to study. It looked like a textbook. If Yagami threw it at him, he'd get a concussion.

He pulled out his phone. Texted Yuki. Mentioned he was okay. Just tired.

Texted Kagura-san. Told her they were aboard Air France and that Yagami sucked as a seatmate. And yes, he was still alive and they hadn't killed each other, yet. Somehow.

Texted his mom, because there was no way in hell he was complaining to his dad. Gave her a brief rundown, told her he was fine, and asked her to look after his father.

Glanced quickly at Yagami's neat notes clustered on the margins, at the drawn notations and crosschecked answers and wondered yet again what the hell that crazy brain was hiding. Iori Yagami – musician, stalker, planner, a fucking scholar?

 _Why_ was he sitting next to this guy again?

Because they were gonna save the world. They were gonna wipe the map clean of Orochi's guys and one Ash Crimson, too, because Yagami held a grudge.

It'd better be worth this agonizing long flight. Once they landed, he was off this plane, in the airport, done with security, and Yagami could take his sweet ass time mowing down people to find him.

He didn't doubt the other man would, roaring all the way.

Kyo pulled the earbuds out of his ears. He was getting tired of rock music.

* * *

 **Air France**

 **10:00 PM – 11:20 PM (Parisian Time – 3:20 PM)**

 **Destination of Arrival: Charles de Gaulle Airport, Paris**

Yagami had closed his book, pocketed his much worn pencil, and was staring at the scenery outside the window. Not that Kyo could see much of it, what with his rival's head getting in the way. He noticed it was significantly colder now than it was when they left Osaka. Fortunately, he'd packed a jacket in his carry-on. It was coming out the moment he got clear of Yagami.

The flight path was on the other man's functional screen – Kyo wanted to black it out too, but his fingers were necessary – and they were over Parisian airspace. Great. He needed to deal with jet lag within the next few hours but at least he'd be off this goddamn plane.

He hoped Yagami's jet lag would knock him off his feet for a few hours.

The guy was the worst when anchored to him like this.

Customs forms were passed out. He got his done quickly. Next to him, the redhead marked his form, handed it to the stewardess, and lapsed back into observing the landscape outside his window. _Boooriiing._

Kyo crossed his arms, stretched his legs out as far as possible, and yawned.

His phone vibrated.

It was Yuki. The only good thing about this flight so far. He texted her back, reassuring her of his safety and then put the phone away. Waited for the plane to quit circling and goddamn fucking land.

* * *

 **Arrival at Charles de Gaulle Airport, Paris**

 **Air France**

 **Parisian Time – 3:30 PM**

The pilot knew what he was doing. The landing was smooth; Kyo's ears still popped during descent. Next to him, Iori muttered under his breath. Now that the other man no longer blocked his view, he got a good look at gray skies, a slick runway, and several Parisian airport personnel bundled in heavy jackets beneath their official vests. Some of them were moving away after taxiing the plane into docking at the gate.

Fuck. It was cold.

Over the official intercom, Air France welcomed them to Paris and hoped that they enjoyed their experience of flying with them. Yeah, it would've been great by himself. With Yagami destroying his screen, nearly indenting his face with his boot, studying fucking music theory while he was bored out of his mind, and telling him to shut up at every opportunity, Kyo counted it as one of the most arduous travel experiences he'd ever had.

When they were done, he was getting a one-way ticket home by himself.

Yagami could get his own trip back.

People milled around, getting up and retrieving carry-ons from their overhead compartments. Kyo didn't wait. Springing from his seat, he popped their compartment open, lugged his bag out, and booked it for the exit as quickly as he could without trampling people. Behind him, he heard Iori Yagami curse, voice rising above the crowd.

 _"Kusanagi! Get back here, you fuckhead!"_

Kyo grinned.

* * *

 **Comments** : So on Saturday, December 8, 2018, when I started writing this chapter, I did some research on international departures from Kansai International Airport to Paris via Air France. So, in the previous chapter, Iori mentioned the flight was at 10:00 AM. At that time, I didn't have anything to go off by – it was just a random time picked for the fic. Well, on December 8, I discovered that there was an Air France flight heading out for Paris that day for a 10:15 AM schedule. Color me surprised, haha. It even gave the gate number, so I ran with that and used it for this fic.

Had to keep checking time differences and estimate the thirteen hours going off Japanese time, which explained the shift to Parisian time once they hit France. Going to Taiwan from the U.S. is about an eighteen hour flight, so thirteen hours parked next to your rival is likely to be unbearable. Plus, economy sucks even if you aren't as tall as these guys. I used some of my own flight experiences for this (i.e. I did oversleep on my lunch and that was terrible). Hope you like – my Kyo and Iori don't necessarily cause stuff to blow up but they always push each other's buttons. XD


	4. Chapter 4

**Preemptive Strike (Or Why Y'All Gonna Regret Coming Back)**

 **Chapter 4**

 _Written By: RinoaDestiny_

 _King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, and Chizuru Kagura belong to SNK_

* * *

" _Kyo Kusa-fuckin'-nagi, you goddamn shithead!"_

Kyo was giddy. Knowing his way around Charles de Gaulle Airport due to the tournaments involving Crimson, he found the security lines, got his details checked and basic biometrics done, and then booked it for the third floor where the major out-going transportation was. Milling with the hectic crowd, he settled himself in a dry spot, hauled out his jacket, and waited patiently for the redhead to show up. Iori still needed to undergo security – a bad temper could delay him – and if he knew anything about the other man, he'd be fastidious enough to do currency conversion before coming after him.

After all, Yagami was paying, so his rival would be considering monetary expenses and necessities.

Kyo decided he'd convert his money later. After they got settled at a hotel (he hoped Yagami got separate rooms), he was going to walk around the city despite the chill. Paris had some grand sites besides the famous Eiffel Tower and the Triumphal Arch (he couldn't pronounce it in French and had asked the team translator a Japanese approximation) like museums and some charming little shops. Walk off his jet lag, grab some pastries, or find their best seafood cuisine. Maybe even pick up something pretty for Yuki.

That's if Yagami didn't rip his head off first.

So when his rival stormed through the sliding doors, pissed off as hell and saw him, Kyo relaxed and readied himself for a fight. Yagami reminded him of those stories of Western fire-breathing dragons – none so benevolent as the Eastern ones with pearls clutched in their claws. Hell, he could see him breathing purple flames. The idea was nonsensical and funny. With both feet on the ground and the possibility of retreat from the rapidly approaching tempest if needed, Kyo's confidence returned hand-in-hand with his cockiness.

When Iori closed the distance, Kyo was ready for him.

"You little shit! Why didn't you wait for me?"

" _Thirteen_ hours, Yagami. Your boring music theory. You fried my screen. Told me to shut up. Couldn't wait to get the hell away from you."

The other man was furious. The tendon in his neck protruded and tautened like a cord. "Where were you planning to go, huh? _You_ agreed, Kusanagi. Together!"

"Oh, stop breathing down my neck. You'll pop a blood vessel. 'Sides, people are looking."

"Let them look," Iori snarled. "You planned to ditch my ass?"

"If I wanted to do that, I'd be gone. Waited for you, didn't I?" Kyo grinned, seeing his rival color, become apoplectic. "How was security?"

The fact that Iori Yagami didn't kill him right there and then was a testament to self-control and how important it was that they did this together. Besides, the other fighter wanted to kill him on even grounds in an actual fight and battling in the airport probably wasn't ideal. Instead, the soberly-dressed man stalked away from him, barked for a taxi, and shot him a venomous glare. "You coming or not, Kusanagi?"

Of course he was.

The taxi driver recognized them on sight and apparently was a fan, which made Kyo grin even wider and made Iori scowl. Tons of excited French filled the small vehicle along with a lot of enthusiastic gesticulation. The driver's name was Marc (it was repeated three times in the beginning), Kyo heard his name slightly mangled, and Yagami's given name was completely butchered. He started laughing, quivering in his seat while the redhead, expression moody, handed Marc a piece of paper with what looked like copied French. Kyo couldn't read it but it looked like an address. Their hotel? That would be great.

 _"Oui!"_ Marc said with great aplomb. Well, someone was happy. Not every day you ran into the two biggest rivals in King of Fighters history and have both of them as passengers in your taxi. Kyo placed Marc at about twenty-seven, dressed for the weather with a dark-colored jacket, scarf, and gloves. He also needed a shave with that five-o'-clock shadow. A light scar crossed his brow. He wondered what the story behind that was. With a good-natured chuckle, Marc started driving and they were off.

"Oi, Yagami."

"What?"

"Where are we headed?"

"Montmartre. Heard of it?"

"Can't even pronounce it. Your accent's terrible, too."

"We're going to the hostel." Now that they were comfortably seated in the taxi – Marc was whistling – Iori seemed more relaxed, as if his previous rage had leeched from him. The redhead looked at the passing scenery, which Kyo admitted still looked nice even though he'd been here before. They'd never stayed in Montmartre during the tournaments, so after some time went by, the city changed. Iori, he noticed, stared out the window; hand pressed against the side of his face, as if lost in thought. Kyo was struck by the odd impression that with his getup, Yagami gave off a distinctly Parisian vibe.

"Was that hotel or –"

"Hostel. Not hotel. It's cheaper."

"Great. Hope I'm not stuck in the same room as you."

"You are. They have bunk beds, Kyo. Sharing with six other people."

"Fuck you get us in the same room for?" Why was Yagami doing this? Was this payback for all his losses during their fights? "Can't even sit next to you on a plane without incident. Why –"

"Oh, it could've been worse, Kyo." Was that an amused chuckle from the other fighter? "One of their rooms had only one bed. Go ahead and cringe. I know you're doing it."

"At least you –"

"I want to fight you, Kyo, not fuck you. Let's be clear on that, okay?"

"Great. So we agree on that point. As if I see you that way, Yagami."

"Don't want to give them any ideas." Yagami wasn't looking at him while saying any of this. His reflection in the window was strangely serene; Kyo wondered if this was why he lugged that bass guitar around with him all the time back home in Osaka. Did certain things make him less crazy? "You know the French. Don't need them to assume things."

"Well, I claim bunk furthest from yours."

"You'd best hope the other guests haven't claimed your spot already, Kyo."

"Damn." He hadn't thought of that.

Marc said something, then, and that apparently got his rival's attention as Iori stirred from his relaxed demeanor. There was a language barrier, though, so how was Yagami going to cross it? The hand with the silver ring dipped into the overcoat pocket, pulled out the phone, and from where he sat, Kyo glimpsed the other man tap at what appeared to be an app. Brought it up to his lips and spoke in their native tongue, "What are you asking me?"

There was a brief delay and then the same question came out in French.

Kyo's eyebrows shot up. That was cool.

Their driver chuckled. Said a word, which knotted Yagami's brow with confusion.

 _"Les amis?"_

"Ah-mizu?"

Actually, Kyo thought that wasn't half-bad. It was apparent Yagami was making an effort; Marc's face lit up. Their young driver made a gesture at Iori's phone. They were at a light that just turned red. Then Marc, who made his familiarity with the app obvious, repeated that same word and Kyo heard the translation and chuckled.

 _Tomodachi. Of course._

Iori looked nonplussed. They weren't friends. Hell, they couldn't refer to each other as acquaintances, either. Not after fighting each other for so long. Yagami had been ready to smoke him earlier and Kyo had annoyed him on the plane. No one would mistake them for anything but rivals. Since Marc was a fan of theirs, surely he knew. But with the rainy Parisian weather turning Yagami's mood strangely bearable and even easing him during the ride, Kyo supposed their discussion was pleasant.

He saw Yagami shake his head as Marc handed the phone back.

Their driver mumbled something, laughed softly and hit the gas as the light turned green. Other taxis sped past them. There were a few intrepid pedestrians on the streets and sidewalks. Paris in rainy weather, cold as it was, carried a beauty to its streets and shops that differed from Osaka. Kyo wasn't sure if it was the architecture, the people, or just the fact that France was still foreign and mysterious to him.

Yagami's expression hadn't changed, as if unsure how to process Marc's interpretation of their relationship. The other man had quietly put away his phone. A moment later, Iori turned to him; the question in his voice even before he asked it.

"Friends? We look like friends, Kyo?"

"Well, you haven't been biting my head off. I haven't sworn at you in the last…oh, few seconds. Guess that's enough for our friend here, huh?"

"Damn." The redhead frowned. "If he assumes that…"

"What?"

"We better hope our roommates don't assume the same."

"Oh."

"Or worse."

"Shit, Yagami. Don't go there."

"Hope for the naïve and innocent, Kyo. Or…" Iori shrugged; the casual gesture almost sophisticated with that long coat of his. "It's gonna be hell."

* * *

Hell didn't describe in adequate terms anything about their roommates. It was, if Kyo let himself get poetic, going from the divine in Marc's taxi where their driver's cheerful attitude affected them both (Yagami gave him pay for distance traveled and then some) to the hellpit in some Buddhist lore where the demons were their co-inhabitants.

Le Regent Montmartre itself was a rather nice hostel. Kyo didn't expect it to be neat, quaint, or comfortable compared to some horror stories he'd heard about other places, but Yagami seemed to have picked a decent spot. There was some nice neutral stonework, bright blues (the front desk was an immediate draw), friendly staff (who lit up like Marc when Yagami tried some minimal, horribly-accented French), and there were vending machines.

So, first impressions were great.

What came after wasn't so nice and confirmed his rival's worst suspicions, but in an entirely different way. Not that it was much better.

The good thing was that there were two rooms joined by a common area: four beds in one and four in the other. If Kyo had his way, he'd be in one and Yagami would be in the other. But, the other six had already arrived and claimed their spots. The first four spots in the foremost room belonged to an American couple – young, athletic, the man and woman looking ready to test the sheets – and a giggling pair of European girls who made eyes at them when they first arrived. Kyo heard Iori mutter, "Bunch of idiots" before trying the second room.

They found themselves confronting a middle-aged bespectacled German man who thought he was king of the room (opened fire with his voice) and a nutcase who lay on the rightmost top bunk singing what sounded like children's songs. "Hey, Yagami – looks like you have company."

"Go get fucked."

The other man's mood had soured considerably since the German man started yelling at him; the insult told Kyo they were back to known territory. Not only was the German's language incomprehensible to them – Yagami looked downright irritated – but his rival began snapping back in Japanese. That left two foreigners screaming at each other, the nutcase still singing in his own tongue, himself standing there like a moron, and the known presence of the other four in the first room.

After two minutes of this, Kyo had enough. He was going to take a walk around town.

"Kusanagi, where are you going?"

"Getting away from you crazies. I'll get my own dinner."

"Convert your money first, asshole!"

"If I needed advice, I'd ask. Later, Yagami."

A loud, strident torrent of German spewed behind him. His rival's voice followed.

"Hey, fuckhead! Yeah, I'm talking to you! Don't know the hell you yelling at me for, but keep going! I can do this all fucking night! Go ahead! Lose your voice! Maybe I'll get a good fucking night's sleep!"

Kyo shook his head and kept moving. The traveler's pouch slung around his chest – now under his jacket – contained enough money for food and other niceties. He was out the door so fast that the girls' giggling trailed after him and then disappeared like the fading tendrils of a nightmare.

He could've slammed the door.

He didn't.

* * *

Montmartre charmed him. By the time he left the hostel, it was already close to 5:30 and darkening quickly with the overcast sky and light drizzling. The storefronts lit the cobblestones, warm and bright yellow against the wet cool grays and icy blues. Kyo found a money changer after walking downhill into the active center of Montmartre. They converted _yen_ , which was perfect. He had a fourth of his money converted into euros – if he needed more, he'd be back – and departed in better spirits.

The first thing he did was find a clothing shop, adding a more suitable long coat along with a collapsible umbrella to his possessions. If France was undergoing winter or just a cold spell, he didn't want to get sick and drag his ill ass around with Yagami snarling the entire way. Not only would that suck but it would cramp his style when fighting (How well did anyone fight with runny noses, body aches, coughing, and sneezing? Or with a high temperature?).

Once he was warm and dry, he went for the next priority on his short list.

Food.

It wasn't Japanese cuisine – not the comfort food of curry, ramen, udon, or any of his mom's home-cooking – but what he'd tried the last time he was here got his attention. Fortunately, several inexpensive-looking places were open, even though he couldn't read the menus. He'd look around, see something he liked, and literally point it out to either the person behind the counter or his server (if that was how it worked). It made him miss the plastic food displays back home – was that a pang of homesickness? – reminding him that he was in the middle of the world, in Europe, stuck here on a wet cold drizzly night trying to decide what to eat.

What was Yagami doing? Was he still having a screaming match with that irate German man? Would that get them kicked out of the hostel? Why was the guy so offended by them? Were they ever going to know (since neither he nor Yagami spoke a lick of German)?

Kyo finally hedged his bets on a smaller establishment, opened the heavy door, and found himself greeted with warmer temperatures, curious faces (not many because of the weather) and the smiling face of the greeter. The scent of cooked meats and other savories filled the air; he was ravenous. The greeter said something to him in two languages (was it French _and_ English?) but he couldn't understand any of it. Were there any Japanese tourists here? He didn't see anyone with cameras and the bright rain ponchos. Was he the only Asian here? Just as he was getting desperate, one of the waitresses passing by saw him, murmured something to the greeter, and then asked, "How many, sir?" in Japanese.

He was so startled that it took his brain a full minute to catch up with his tongue and kick-start it into action. "Uh, one. Just me."

The waitress smiled – coppery hair, hazel eyes, a nice figure – as if understanding his confusion. "I'll take you to your table, sir. If you'll follow me, please." Her Japanese was tinged by a distinct French accent, which he found charming. That appeared to be the word of the day for him. Was she learning the language by herself? It had a different air from when Ash Crimson arrogantly flung his mother tongue at him (the guy rankled everyone). Somehow, the woman seating him, serving him, pointing out items on the menu made his own familiar language sound unfamiliar.

If, by some remarkable chance, Yagami experienced the same, Kyo wanted to know.

He returned his waitress's vivacious smile, mentioned that he wanted to try the soup of the day, that fish dish she'd recommended, and oh, could she also give suggestions for dessert once he was done with the main course? She would. He asked if she was learning Japanese. She was considering the JET program – please call her Marie – and asked if her accent was bad. Kyo chuckled, let her know it wasn't (compared to his in her language), and said it actually sounded pretty.

If he'd thought Marc lit up, Marie was luminous.

The rest of his evening went well. The food was excellent – Marie's recommendations were on point – which made returning to the hellpit a daunting prospect. He tipped her in addition to the service charge in his check (Marie said this was by law), wished her luck with the JET program, and left the cozy comfort of the restaurant. He'd grabbed the hostel's business card before leaving, so after getting some straightforward directions, he began his slow walk back.

He was in no rush. At all.

* * *

It was close to 9:30 when Kyo braced himself, opened the door to their shared rooms and entered, feeling as though he'd crossed into the field of battle. The American couple were getting amorous (there were locked bedrooms for that, or in Japan's case, love hotels), the two girls were exchanging texts on their phones while sitting across from each other, and his and Yagami's shared room was silent (that was ominous). At least he didn't hear screaming in Japanese and guttural German anymore.

Yagami was nowhere in sight. The nutcase wasn't on his bunk bed, singing. However, there were loud splashes from the shared bathroom – _what the hell?_ – leaving only the deranged German, who was reading while lying down on the rightmost bottom bunk. There was a little light angled over his book, throwing bright flashes off his glasses. So long as the reading didn't interfere with his sleep, Kyo was willing to let it slide.

Ditching his new coat and tossing his umbrella next to his bag, he kicked off his shoes, plopped himself onto the bottom bunk that was his (Yagami had claimed the top), and waited for the nutcase to finish washing. He wanted a nice hot shower, so that he could go to sleep warm, comfortable, and clean. After that walk and pleasant dinner, the effects of the jet lag had finally caught up. If he went lights out and didn't wake up till morning, great.

Last thing he needed was insomnia or to wake up too early.

It'd happened to him before.

He must've zoned out or fallen asleep ahead of schedule, because it was the sound of something breaking and loud German that awoke him. Bleary-eyed, he arose from the bed and glimpsed the German man berating the younger one (the nutcase) off to the side. Did he miss something?

The older man stomped off. A door slammed a few seconds later.

Greeaaat. Maybe he needed to pass on the shower tonight.

His body seemed to agree, as he was out again for some indeterminable amount of time before someone rudely shook him awake. "Kusanagi!"

Oh. Yagami was back. "Trying to sleep, ya fuck. Lemme."

"Blanctorche. What'd you know about her?"

"She's French, knows Crimson, and would rather not see us pound his face in. Lemme sleep, Yagami."

"Been asking around. The locals say she lives in the countryside."

"She's nobility, Yagami. Of course she would." Kyo smelled smoke wafting off his rival, who continued to stand there like some red-haired sentinel. "Where'd you go off to?"

"Left the crazy to yell at someone else. Food. Music. Some smokes."

"You found a club?"

"Yeah." Iori glanced away from him for a moment, tension lines appearing on his face. "Oh, good. That's not him."

"The German guy?"

"Yeah. Motherfucker can shout. I miss anything?"

"Nutcase from that bunk broke something, I think." Kyo scrunched his face, trying to remember with the haziness of sleep clinging to him. "I saw German guy yell at him and then stomp off. Maybe he's in the bathroom."

"Shit."

"Welcome to my world, Yagami." Kyo yawned, letting his body sink further into the welcoming softness and warmth of the bed. "Lemme sleep. Oh…German guy likes reading. Has a small light. Maybe you can do your music theory…keep him company."

"Fuck no."

"Well, don't wake me. You gotta yell…somewhere else. Couple next room…"

"I know." His rival's voice was deadpan. "They newlyweds? Got a lot of stamina."

"What…you looked?"

"No. I heard."

"Hahaha," Kyo laughed, amusement in the mellowing timbres of his sleep-addled voice. "Go away, Yagami. Try not to be loud."

"Fuck you."

"Whatever."

* * *

Kyo slept, deep and content and warm. It was silent – blissfully so – after some tirade in German and snappish retorts in Japanese flew right by him way earlier. The voices had been disembodied but one was pissed as hell and the other losing patience. There was shouting in the distance, too, after a while – a male voice and a female one – towards their direction. It was only after that when the screaming above him stopped.

Not too long after, he heard a door open and close. Someone shouted something in Japanese. That had to be Yagami. He wondered what the nutcase mumbling in his sleep in the other bunk had done. Maybe he'd find out tomorrow.

A while later, before his ears shut out all sounds, the bunk above his creaked.

Then, silence.

Long, comfortable, welcoming silence.

Enduring quiet that stretched into the expanses of the night –

 _ **"KYYYYYOOOOOOOO!"**_

Kyo startled awake, shot one look at the bunk above his, grabbed his pillow, bounded on the edges of his bed in one fluid motion, and smacked Iori one right in the face. His eyes adjusted to the dark – there was light spilling from around the edges of the drawn window curtain – which allowed him a good look at his rival's surprised expression. Surprised and unguarded.

"The hell, Yagami?" he snarled, trying to keep his voice down. "You do that all the time?"

"Fuck."

"What the hell time is it…goddammit. It's four in the morning."

Several yells from the other room and an angry muttering from the rightmost bottom bunk. Uh oh.

"Shit, Yagami. Go back to sleep. Can you _not_ shout my name, fucking please?"

"Can't sleep. Going out for a smoke."

"You what? Hey, wait."

Iori ignored him, climbed down his bunk, threw his overcoat on, and left. Kyo expected the door to slam. It didn't.

There was a glint in the glowering German man's eyes – sinister at this time of night. Kyo wished he was in the other room. Maybe not with the horny couple, but he could take two giggling girls. Actually, forget that. Two giggling girls in the dead of night? That was what horror stories were made of – creepy-ass childish giggles in a dark room. Brrrrr…better not.

He wanted to go back to sleep, but Yagami's nocturnal howling put him on full alert. Even nestled back under the blankets again, he resorted to thinking about the most boring subjects his teachers taught him (hated history) before his mind finally shut down.

Yagami still hadn't returned.

* * *

Awkward. That'd be the best way to describe this morning, as he discovered firsthand the damage done to the bathroom. There were several ceramic or porcelain fixtures, such as the shelf, the toilet, and the sink. The shelf was broken – _fuck did the guy do that for?_ – leaving remnants of dirt and small ceramic chips on the tile floor. One look in the wastebasket confirmed the late remains of a tiny houseplant. The toilet was okay. The sink was not. Kyo carefully brushed his teeth, washed his face, and combed his hair, ever wary of the razor-sharp edges of the once-smooth ceramic surface. Last thing he wanted was to cut himself and bleed all over the place.

There was even a hairline fracture down the side. Who was paying for that damage?

Never mind the smears of blood on the glazed walls.

He didn't want to know. He didn't see cuts on Yagami's hands this morning.

Getting out of the bathroom only met him and Iori with more awkwardness. The redhead was ready to leave and was checking his phone when he re-entered their room. Yagami didn't say a word or look at him. Yeah, after what happened last night – damn, he had lungs – it was best they didn't bring it up unless they had to. Kyo didn't want to know why his rival yelled his name in his sleep or if this was a regular habit. He was already a stalker. _That_ brought it up to creeper levels of psycho-stalker.

Then, things got worse because their favorite roommate barged in, barreling down on them like a man ready for war.

Because Kyo was watching, he noticed Iori stiffen, put his phone away, and grit his teeth as the German got right into his face. The man had to be mental or just had a pair of big ones, since no one did that to Yagami just like that and lived. The lenses on his glasses flashed, menacing and although the German only hit Yagami's shoulder and should've been small fry, he wasn't. Kyo had witnessed the barrage his rival underwent from yesterday until now and couldn't place why the other foreigner seemed to hate him. It wasn't as if Iori did anything to him or knew him. Why the constant harassment?

Yagami moved, as if to push the other man aside, but was stopped in his tracks by an obscene gesture that even Kyo understood. Kyo blinked, unsure if he comprehended it correctly. What was the man insinuating and how? Why? How the fuck did that make any sense? If the other man didn't understand their language – Kyo was sure he didn't – then last night's incident would've made no sense. It would've looked like two crazy young guys being stupid, with one bashing the other's head in with his pillow.

But then again, his rival did prefer to go on a given name basis and if the German had figured that out, then incorrect conclusions could've – had been – drawn.

This was exactly what Yagami feared; although, Kyo didn't know why it mattered so much to him that it did. Yeah, he found it weird – their conversation in the taxi found them agreeing on that point – but it wasn't like it _mattered_. But to Yagami, it did, so…

Speaking of Yagami…

The redhead had gone still, quiet, and ice-cold. _That_ was dangerous. If the idiot in Yagami's face was wise (he wasn't), he needed to turn around right now and run. While Kyo couldn't read Iori's mind, years of fighting him attuned him to certain signs which were all apparent now. The narrowed eyes, the thinned lips, the slight jut forward of his head, and the right hand opening and closing, opening and closing. Iori Yagami was one step away from murder.

Kyo had to stop this before it spun out of control.

They were here to get Ash Crimson, not kill other tourists or civilians.

Even if the other man richly deserved it for somehow being an even bigger asshole than the one looming over him. The guy should thank his gods Kyo was here.

"Hey!" he shouted, redirecting the man's attention. "You insane? Get away from him!"

It worked. The man stalked in his direction, already yelling.

Yeah, he'd had it.

"Oi, Yagami! Let's get outta here!"

The other fighter didn't say anything. Simply shoved the German aside, hauling their carry-ons in one hand and shoved Kyo's coat and umbrella at him. Kyo put the coat on as they left, pocketed the umbrella and didn't look back. That didn't stop the two gigglers from staring wide-eyed at them or the American couple from rolling their eyes and shouting something. It was just as well he didn't know English. From their tone, it was likely similar to the German's insinuation and they didn't need any more of that.

Hell, Yagami didn't need any more of that.

In front of him, Iori was livid. The other man's posture was rigid, as if keeping himself in check. Somehow, when it came time to settle their bill, his rival managed to do it through clenched teeth and forced politeness. It was unsettling to watch, knowing how close someone came to being gutted or having their throat cut just a moment ago. Money changed hands, a receipt was given, and Yagami was out the door so fast that Kyo sprinted after him. The cobblestones were damp but it wasn't rainy. Just overcast and misty.

"Hey, Yagami! Slow down!"

"Fuck you bothering me for, Kyo? Get a taxi."

It was the first time the redhead had spoken to him since last night's unexpected wake-up call. Iori was still angry; however, Kyo sensed the other's effort to calm down. His teeth were clenched, lines of rage etched his face, veins stood from the back of his hands, but he was talking. If Yagami swore at him after a morning's silence, that was a good sign. "Sure. Give me my bag. Maybe we'll get lucky and see Marc again."

He got his bag back. Slung it over his shoulder.

"Guy's an idiot. You know that."

"Shut up, Kyo."

"Not this time, Yagami." He met Iori's dead-on glare without flinching. "That bothered you, didn't it?"

"Told you they'd assume."

"Well, it wasn't the French. It was that nutty German. He hates you. Us. Who knows what the fuck was his problem?"

"I'd have killed him."

"Yeah, I saw. Got us out of there before you did."

Silence.

"Yagami, you do that all the time? Maybe that's why he assumed." Hell, since they had broached the issue…

"It was Orochi."

"Huh?"

"You know why I left, Kyo? It wasn't just the smoke break. _I had to get the fuck away from you._ "

"Why?"

The other man snorted, the sound derisive. "Orochi likes telling me things. One of them is to kill you. To kill Kyo Kusanagi. Kill Kyo. Kill Kyo. You get my drift?"

"That's why you weren't back –"

"Takes a long time to shut that motherfucker up. Takes longer to get ahold of myself."

"Huh."

There was a stream of taxis going past them. Kyo saw most of the vehicles had passengers. He tried flagging one down, but a Parisian couple got the jump ahead of him. Iori let out an exasperated sigh, lugged his carry-on over, looked at him, and muttered what sounded like an uncomplimentary "Fucking useless" under his breath. Kyo didn't grin, although a part of him wanted to. That was more like the Yagami he knew, which meant that while everything wasn't quite okay (was this temporary?), his rival was probably going to be fine.

Kyo just needed to keep him from driving _him_ nuts once he regained his equilibrium.

"Get a hotel suite next time. No one to mess with us."

"More expensive."

"Less hassle. Come on, Yagami! You can even scream and I'll turn a deaf ear."

"I got a pillow in the face. What's next? You gonna punch me?"

"It was four in the morning, Yagami. Not a cool way to wake up."

"Tch."

He tried again. This time, a taxi pulled over. While the driver wasn't Marc (Kyo realized how much he missed the guy's openheartedness), this guy wasn't rude – just preoccupied with Parisian traffic. Iori had gone back to his staring out the window routine, which Kyo decided was just a side-effect of France (perhaps Paris in general). They had dashed out of the hostel without breakfast. He was hungry. Wanted coffee and something hearty. Didn't they have some dish with eggs on toast? That sounded good about now.

"Yagami."

"What?"

"Get some breakfast. Then, we'll talk about Elisabeth Blanctorche. If Crimson returned, she'd likely know where he is."

"That's if she doesn't already have him under her protection."

Right. There was that, too. "A fight, then."

"Yes."

"Been a long time. You thinking that?"

"That's why we're here. Maybe we'll find out some other leads."

"Don't think she'll spill after we bloody up her friend."

"She'll talk. I'll make her."

Yeah, that was good ol' Yagami back again. "Breakfast first, Yagami. I'm starving over here."

"Ha. Deal with it, Kyo. It'll take a bit for me to find a good spot."

"Deal with it? You don't have holes in your stomach?"

"There you go whining again. Do I need to call your mom and tell her to pick up her little princess?"

He feigned a punch, which Iori easily turned aside. That's more like it. Okay. Now they were ready. Yagami's comment also reminded him that he needed to check his phone and see if his mom or Kagura-san had texted back. He'd do it while stuffing his face. "I wasn't the one rumored to be wearing a dress."

"Just a fucking rumor."

After what happened this morning, Kyo decided to tread lightly.

"Okay. Whatever you say, Yagami."

* * *

 **Notes** : Most of the French was Google-fu'd, so how much of it is accurate, I have no clue. I did take French in 7th and 8th grade, but I don't remember much of anything at this point.

* " _Les amis?"_ – "Friends?" (reserved for males or a mix of males and females).

* Le Regent Montmartre is an actual hostel in Montmartre, Paris, France. Montmartre itself apparently is only half-an-hour away from the Charles de Gaulle Airport. Kyo and Iori just have some equally "interesting" roomies in this fic – the hostel itself has terrific reviews on its official website. Looks like a lovely spot.

* JET program is an international program for people outside of Japan to come to Japan, teach English, and also learn about Japanese culture, etc. A cultural exchange of sorts. I remember reading up on this when I was in college, back when I was super-interested in all things Japanese.


End file.
